London market.

As the last act in the curious comedy of the decoy came to its
end, little Mary laid her hand on my shoulder, and, raising
herself on tiptoe, whispered in my ear:

"George, come home with me. I have got something to show you that
is better worth seeing than the ducks."

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise. I won't tell you."

"Will you give me a kiss?"

The charming little creature put her slim sun-burned arms round
my neck, and answered:

"As many kisses as you like, George."

It was innocently said, on her side. It was innocently done, on
mine. The good easy bailiff, looking aside at the moment from his
ducks, discovered us pursuing our boy-and-girl courtship in each
other's arms. He shook his big forefinger at us, with something
of a sad and doubting smile.

"Ah, Master George, Master George!" he said. "When your father
comes home, do you think he will approve of his son and heir
kissing his bailiff's daughter?"